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Online Disqualification Game

Disqualification Game is feigning active disinterest in a girl. It is acting as if you are preemptively removing yourself as a prospect. DQ Game can also refer to disqualifying the girl (rather than yourself) as a suitable mate choice. It’s a script-flipping tactic which has the purpose of shifting relative SMV-dynamic perceptions so that the girl feels like she is chasing the man than the usual and expected way these things go.

An emailer passes along a very terse and very funny example of subversive online DQ Game,

Online dating profile:

“Love to hear you drone on endlessly about your tattoos. Also, please be pre-diabetic. Women with mulatto child to the front of the line.”

Ironically, there was a lot more character diversity in movies back when America was predominately White.

I love that emailer’s DQ Game tailored for the online experience. It grips the female imagination (which is symbiotically attached to the female indignation) and it’s funny. It will get noticed, and that’s rule number one in online game. Naturally, most tattooed, pre-diabetic, mudsharks with mystery meatballs in tow reading that sarcastic profile will recuse themselves from contention, which is an upside alone worth the effort if this sort of profile didn’t also attract the interest of debt-free virgins without tattoos. Implied in the bantz is the prerequisite that cute girls need not apply. The cute girl will giggle and wonder about the man who can be so confidently callous and discriminating. Chicks dig a man of wealth and taste.

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Lunchpail Game

The point of peacocking is to provoke a reaction of interest and curiosity in girls, which then provides you opportunity to display grace under pressure and amused mastery when the inevitable alpha-sifting probing questions and shit tests come flying. Peacocking is therefore an extension of or supplement to a man’s physical and social presence, serving a similar function as a square jaw, social status, and charisma.

Peacocking doesn’t necessarily mean flashy clothes. Any unique accessory can act as an electric zapper to bugwomen. For instance, this is Mutant Seven’s lunchpail Game:

I used to carry the coolest lunchpail on the block when I was a kid…

I still do…

Oh sure, some hall monitor shrews will object. These are the shrews you wouldn’t have fucked anyway.

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Welcome to the CH patented, leather-bound B.O.B. seduction system.

Birth order has an impact on a girl’s character. How much of an impact is debatable, but the zero sum sexual market is all about exploiting pattern perturbations at the margins. In my travels through the Valley of the Thots, I’ve noticed that only-children, first-borns, middle chicks, and “woopsie” last-borns share personality, and hence sexuality, traits.

Only-children girls:

The stereotypes are true. Only-daughters have been coddled their whole lives. They have never had to compete for love and attention with siblings, and their parents (probably sad they didn’t have a son, given they stopped at one kid) treat them with kid gloves because they don’t want the onlies to be upset with them. Sometimes the fathers will resent their only-girls, or push them to be tomboys against their natures, and this will later fuel a slutty rebelliousness in the only-girl that materializes as Dad’s worst nightmare. These girls grow up to be your typical “precious princesses”; selfish, egotistic, demanding, irrationally confident…and DTF. Yes, onlies love to jump in the sack with men who can overpower their solipsism and associated shit tests. The catch is that onlies make such an overpowering first impression that most men are intimidated by their lookatme antics.

First-born girls:

The weight of expectation is placed on these girls. They have carried the burden of pleasing their parents and undertaking some responsibility for their younger siblings. These are your straight-arrow, apple polisher chicks with a good head on their shoulders. They know what they want in a man, and it’s usually a long-term commitment. First-borns respond well to “shared values” and “life dreams (or lost dreams)” Game routines, because they have spent their lives trying to please others often at the expense of pleasing themselves. You want to be the man who can connect with the first-born on the level of someone who gets what she’s had to sacrifice, and who can give her what she’s allowed herself to miss out on before she met you.

Middle chicks:

Keep in mind that White American family size is decreasing, so middle- and last-born chicks are a vanishing breed. Still, I’ve known a few, and they have their own way of seeing the world. Middles are usually artsy, free spirits, and this predilection extends to their poon. They have big, soft hearts, easily broken, that soar and sway and get carried away on bouts of self-induced drama. These were the girls largely ignored by their parents, left to explore on their own. And explore they do, every nook and cocka. Be the man who notices her “special talents” and she’ll be yours forever.

Woopsies (last-borns):

“Mistakes” are pampered even more than are only-children, especially if they’re girls. These are the “rare jewel” daughters of fathers who shower them with baubles, credit cards, BMWs for their Sweet Sixteen birthdays, and a hands-off approach to disciplining them. Part of the reason is that parents get lazy by the third kid, opting to let nature take its course. Another reason is that parents, feeling guilty about neglecting to properly raise the Woopsie, alleviate their guilt by giving the Woopsie lots of gifts and leeway to do as she pleases. The woopsie girl can do no wrong, and because she has never had boundaries on her behavior, she grows up into a thrill-seeker who will push men’s boundaries just to see how much she can get away with before the hammer comes down (it rarely does…most men are pussies). The Woopsie is liable to shack up with a jerkboy grifter before she ever has a serious relationship with a serious man. She’s prone to cheating, carousing, gallivanting, acting out, and then regretting her decisions when the Wall looms. Men looking for the Woopsie Bang should stress script-flipping; the Woopsie can’t resist a hard-to-get man after a lifetime having her feelings validated and her every want fulfilled by her Pedestal Polishing Dad.

***

“traitors first” connects the dots,

So essentially go for onlies and woopsies for the easy lay and first and middles for LTR or waifu.
Wow that really does explain why the female market is so screwed up, you’re picking from 70% + onlies and woopsies (probably closer to 90% now a days) leaving less than 30% (way less) as potential wife material and probably half of that left over is probably a lost cause.

There is much truth in this.

Small family size = More dirty sluts?

mmmmmm….could be!

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The Battlecunt

As our Modren Wahmen lose E and gain T, they become increasingly and routinely combative, as if they’re biologically turning into men, rather than just aping men because they mistakenly think this makes them attractive.

I’ve seen the changes in the field: women don’t play coy as much as they draw swords. Shy flirting (a lost art among women imo) has been replaced by bellicosity. Chicks come snorting out of the gates, stomping all over newborn flirtations, unloading batteries of YASS BITCH QUEEN interrogations, snark, and leading questions.

I’ve had to adjust, as I assume most men have, and this may explain why men of more sensitive constitutions have preferred to drop out altogether. The turtling soyboy can’t adapt his vestigial Game to meet the challenges of today’s ballcutter; his only options become dropping out or merging with the eunuchracy and hoping that his new master — the battlecunt — generously offers a crumb of clitty litter to her supplicating lackey.

A recent example from personal experience: A girl I chatted up almost immediately asked me whom I voted for in 2016 (she could probably smell the musky MAGA on me).

NINTH CIRCUIT SLAYER: that’s personal.

GIRL: not really.

NINTH CIRCUIT SLAYER: way really. since you brought it up, you look like a Rod-ham voter.

GIRL: what’s that supposed to mean?

NINTH CIRCUIT SLAYER: it means what it means.

GIRL: still not getting it.

It was then I realized she didn’t know that Rodham was thecunt’s maidencunt name.

NINTH CIRCUIT SLAYER: hillary clinton. surprise me, and tell me you’re not with her.

GIRL: *sensing the trap* maybe I voted for Bernie.

NINTH CIRCUIT SLAYER: nope. you don’t have a Bernie face.

Physiognomy talk is chicknip. A sly allusion to your meaning is all that’s required to fluff up her hamster.

GIRL: oh yeah? *leaning in* what kind of face is a Bernie face?

I was in my groove with that quimquisitive opening, readying a fusillade of cold reads, but just as her pleat-heat was about to emanate into my zone of sinfluence an unpretty friend summoned the pussy comeandsaveus, and a throng of thongs descended on us, pulling her away from a romance she would never forget (and write about later in a twatzine recalling in vivid color her INDIGNATION that she surrendered herself to a very bad no good magaman).

Gird for battle, gentlemen, because the leash is off and the girlies are gine-primed for a man who fights back. This is the time to show some mettle, a little steel in the spine; these alpha-starved hillary harridans are boiling over with resentment at the soyboys in their midst, and subconsciously welcome any man mentally strong enough to wrest the whip from their dainty hands and free them to enjoy their neglected femininity.

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Les Saunders, Protestant has a Game question,

Off topic, but an important question:

“You just want to fuck me.”

How do you deal with this statement. I’ve had it uttered when we’ve been wriggling around on a couch for another when the top is off, but bra on, pants on, all the way to when having a conversation on the street/in da club.

I know the correct answer is in the realm of “no I don’t”, but it’s a much more textured, nuanced, and layered response than that.

If you’ve hit on more than one woman in your life in a slut-and-the-city shitlibopolis, you will have been accosted by this male sexuality shaming shit test. You may encounter it during the first minute of conversation (less likely, but a pure tell that the girl is a superslut who wants to bang) or at the bedroom threshold (more likely, and a tell that the girl is a headcase who is running away from her slutty past).

Remember the CH golden rules for responding to shit tests:

  • don’t be defensive
  • don’t play into her frame
  • do turn it back on her

“No, I don’t” isn’t a great reply. It violates the rule “don’t be defensive”. She’ll figure you’re lying about your lustful motive and are ashamed of it, and this will lower your value to her. Better is to fall back on classic tactics (Agree&Amplify, AssumeTheSale, BeAChallenge) that charge your ripostes with a frisson of jerkboy charm.

PSYCHOLOGICALLY PROJECTING HO: you just want to fuck me.

THE LORD’S PHALLIC HERALD: well, i DID, but now that you’ve killed the vibe…

or:

“you just want to fuck me”

“i’m not here to play checkers”

or (as the more open-ended conversational gambit):

“you just want to fuck me”

“more than the other girls here?” *point around the room*

If you prefer the denial response, make it an active one that assumes the sale:

“you just want to fuck me”

“you wish”

or:

“you just want to fuck me”

“look at that, we have so much in common!”

Few girls can resist a juicy script-flipped assumption like that.

***

From a commenter,

“No, I’m only attracted to your mind.”

Don’t stop playing with her nipple while you say it.

LOL, this would be a hilarious running gag if you keep it up right through climax.

*pulling off her panties*

“i love your mind”

*fingering her pussy*

“your mind is so sexy to me”

*slipping your cock in*

“i only want to fuck your mind”

*cumming*

“godDAMN you have a hot mind”

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Cunt: “You sound proud that you haven’t taken any refugees”

MAGApole: “Of course.” [ed: heh] “…we can be called populists, nationalists, racists…I don’t care. I care about my family and about my country.”

This is a man even the great Trump could learn from. Trump gets very very close to speaking in this plain commonsense way that cuts like a hot knife through so much sophistic skypery, but imo he has not yet achieved Pole position.

Racist?

I DON’T CARE. I CARE ABOUT MY FAMILY AND ABOUT MY COUNTRY

How is a virtue sniveling shitlib supposed to answer that without sounding like xir’s against family and country? Answer: xir can’t. And how is a shitlib supposed to wrest a publicly humiliating penance from someone who “doesn’t care” about the Fake Virtue of the anti-Whites? Answer: xir can’t.

This is how to reframe a charge of “racism” (aka “perspicacity”). Watch and learn from our based Outer Hajnal White brothers. Reframing like this comes naturally to them.

Btw, this is the same dumb BBC bint schooled by Jordan Peterson a while back.

***

In more MAGAman news, Tucker Carlson gets better every day. Here he is interviewing Michael Anton, another MAGAman (and former Trump cabinet member) who wrote the famous “Flight 93” essay:

Michael Anton has excellent physiognomy, which shouldn’t surprise anyone considering he was among the first to recognize the importance and necessity of the Trump Realignment, and the decadence and corruption of the Uniparty establishment.

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The Flimsy Pretext Opener

Waffles shares one of his opening pickup gambits,

One of the harder situations to open is a group of 4-5 or more girls. You need to open them without specifically opening them. I started this thing where I casually and sort of obviously throw my keys at them then walk over and say something like “sorry, dropped my keys” or “lost my keys” etc. By the reaction you can pretty much tell if they are fun and bubbly (and receptive) or full of snark (unreceptive) proceed accordingly. Only used it a few times but it works well and is pretty funny in the right situations.

This is funny shit. And effective. No girl with half a brain will think it isn’t a ruse to hit on her, but that’s not the point. The effectiveness of the Flimsy Pretext Opener is in what it communicates about the man: a lack of concern for the girl’s approval, which translates as a lack of desperation for her pussy.

And a lack of desperation — a calmness, self-assuredness, and self-possession — in a man is chick crack, the T&A equivalent of male desirability.

The whole pickup is a game to you, nothing to be taken so seriously, and in a girl’s mind that gets filtered into “here’s a man who has so many options with women he doesn’t sweat any one girl”. Waffles’ “conspicuously lost keys” gambit is essentially a material witness for his preselection by other women.

The other reason it works is that male creativity in and of itself is attractive to women. It’s a cue of high male smv. When you can get creative on the approach, you have set yourself apart from the battalions of betas who only know how to sheepishly sidle up and drop a breathtaking “hi, what’s your name?”.

There’s nothing wrong with saying “hi”… it beats eye-stalking the girl from across the chasm of a noisy bar…but if you want to win the zero sum game of human reproduction you’ll need heavier weaponry.

Remember too, that treating pickup as a fun game assures that your interactions with girls will be more authentic. When you’re having a blast, amusing yourself like no girl can amuse you, then flirting will feel less like a chore and more like a genuine expression of the happy womanizer inside you.

PS If the girl(s) respond with unreceptive snark, you don’t necessarily have to NEXT them. I’m of the opinion that very few sour pickup scenarios can’t be turned around with the right words and attitude. Basic rule of turning around unreceptive women: never act flustered or butthurt. “Drop” your keys near her, get poor reaction, pick up keys and say “i always drop my keys when a girl flirts with me, it’s a nervous tic”. Assume the sale, with a vittle of vulnerability game.

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